Mr. Brownbee cleared his throat:
“We think, Mr. Heythorp, you should make it at least fifteen hundred. In that case we might perhaps consider—”
Old Heythorp shook his head.
“We can hardly accept your assertion that we should get nothing in the event of bankruptcy. We fancy you greatly underrate the possibilities. Fifteen hundred a year is the least you can do for us.”
“See you d—-d first.”
Another silence followed, then Ventnor, the solicitor, said irascibly:
“We know where we are, then.”
Brownbee added almost nervously:
“Are we to understand that twelve hundred a year is your—your last word?”
Old Heythorp nodded. “Come again this day month, and I'll see what I can do for you;” and he shut his eyes.